


Of Passion and Hellfire.

by sophluorescent



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Nightmares, Possession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:28:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23268496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophluorescent/pseuds/sophluorescent
Summary: Somehow, the golden collar and chain ‘round Baekhyun’s throat looks fitting, like it has always belonged right there, tight against his windpipe. Perhaps, it’s simply Kyungsoo’s need to own him, to consume him just as he’d consumed Kyungsoo. But, in the back of his mind, he knows its something else.He wonders, belatedly, if the chains are gold in Hell—or if Baekhyun’s more used to iron.
Relationships: Byun Baekhyun/Do Kyungsoo | D.O
Comments: 6
Kudos: 92
Collections: OBSCURE SORROWS FIC FEST





	Of Passion and Hellfire.

**Author's Note:**

> **Written for Obscure Sorrows Fest (2019-20)!** I thought the concept of this fest was super cool, and at the time i joined, I wanted to just put together something short and easy. I had a little more trouble deciding on a concept to fit my word than I originally expected, but I'm pleased with what I've come up with. 
> 
> My word was **_rollover reaction:_** _n. when your dream about someone you know skews how you feel about them all the next day, an emotion you are unable—and unwilling—to shake._
> 
> As always, if you enjoy reading, please do leave a comment or kudos. I take a look at every comment I receive and truly love to see what you have to say about my work <3 And, thank you for taking the time to look at my work, I hope you enjoy reading!

“They’ll be shooting both you and the soundtrack artist today for the promotion images,” Junmyeon says, grabbing his backpack from the backseat and then getting out of the car in tandem with Kyungsoo. It’s blessedly quiet outside of the photography studio—Kyungsoo doesn’t spot a single camera, much less another human being apart from the two of them.

He follows Junmyeon inside, keeping his gaze forward. He’s interested to see what this photoshoot will be like. If it’ll highlight his character or him, the actor playing the character. Both options have their merits, but Kyungsoo can’t help but expect it to be the former, after all, these are promotional images.

Upon speaking to the photographer, though, he learns that it’s actually going to be a bit of both. A spread of Do Kyungsoo, rising actor, and a spread of Kim Jaehoon, his fictional counterpart. “We’ll have you in black and white like the rest of cast in and effort to reflect the dramatic script. The shoots in color will be those of you, the actors, and of course, your soundtrack artist.” Then, they’re sent off to sit on one of the couches waiting against the wall—opening the entire studio to their viewing pleasure.

“Who is the soundtrack artist?” Kyungsoo asks once their settled, his voice lowered to a whisper despite their relative loneliness. Most people are still running about, scattered around the studio, making final touches to each set and what not.

Junmyeon looks over, “Byun Baekhyun. His sound complimented the dark, broody style the movie’s supposed to have,” Junmyeon explains. “So, he was hired to create the whole soundtrack, rather than have a reel of different artists featuring. Besides, most of the music is to be used in promotion, or as background music in the movie itself. They wanted a cohesive sound.”

Kyungsoo nods along, curiosity sated for the time being, and relaxes back into his seat, his gaze roving the room.

He spots who must be Baekhyun sat on a stool a little ways away, his face lit up by the bright blue screen of his phone, his hair falling in a wave that obscures his face. Even from here, he’s got this innocent, almost boyish look about him. It’s hard to believe _he_ ’s the kid that was chosen to sing the soundtrack for such a… dark movie.

Until, it’s not. By the time Kyungsoo’s brought to hair and make-up, then told to wait just off set, Baekhyun’s turned into a completely different person. Shaggy, unkempt hair no longer looks _boyish_ , but rather, debauched. Droopy eyes no longer look tired, but rather like bedroom eyes.

He lies draped over a red, velvet couch. His collar cuts deep, exposing shimmering, golden skin under the hazy, scarlet lighting. His eyes remain half-lidded, lazy. One hand rests on his throat; the other on his thigh.

He is _sensual, seductive, dangerous._

“He digests concepts well,” Kyungsoo remarks to the stylist next to him. She nods, a touch awestruck by the boy.

As if he heard them, Baekhyun’s gaze flicks over to them.

He winks, then, rolls his head back, exposing the long column of his throat, arching his back ever so slightly. The cameras flash, and then, he’s returning his gaze back to the camera.

He’s given the directive to change poses a few more times. Each time, he looks good, in Kyungsoo’s humble opinion. There’s simply something about him that draws the viewer in. He’d make a good model if he had the proportionals for editorial magazines. But, he really doesn’t. Nor does Kyungsoo. So, it’s nothing to be faulted for.

Just an observation.

“Would you two like to do a few photos together?” One of the aides asks him. Kyungsoo glances up at the velvet couch only to see that Baekhyun’s beckoning to him. He shrugs. _What the hell_ , it really can’t hurt anything.

He walks onto the set. “Do you want me, or the character for these?” He calls out, standing just in front of the couch.

“Whatever feels right.”

And because Kyungsoo feels _bared_ in front of Baekhyun, he chooses to portray his character. He’s not sure he could handle being himself in front of Baekhyun’s nearly predatory gaze.

When he finally joins Baekhyun on the couch, he can’t help but feel that awkward distrust. He _knows_ he looks stiff, stoic, as he sits just shy of the singer, but he’s yet to get over that mental block he always puts up around strangers—especially strangers that make him feel out of his element.

But, the concept is attractive. How it’s designed to contrasting Kyungsoo’s dark, domineering, brooding character against the tangible sensuality that is Baekhyun’s music. It’s a collision of two personalities. Those that are different, but inherently similar.

“You’ll have to relax,” Baekhyun murmurs, rearranging himself so as to welcome Kyungsoo into the scene. To mold them together, a dichotomy between reservation and seduction. He drapes himself against Kyungsoo’s side—unfathomably touchy and forward. Kyungsoo stiffens before Baekhyun’s words catch up to him. He glances at the singer’s face. It’s immeasurably honest as he continues, “the more you relax, the better the photos will come out.”

He sucks in a breath, nodding. In the next second, he is Kim Jaehoon, ruthless business man, racketeer. A criminal who would do _anything_ to retain control. His gaze hardens, but his body relaxes against Baekhyun’s. He allows himself to be molded into place.

Baekhyun is like an open flame, and Kyungsoo is the golden cup left beside it.

“You’re doing well,” he murmurs, some minutes later, as they’re directed into their last pose. “Cuddle with pretty boys often?” He teases. Kyungsoo wonders what the reaction would be should he say, “ _yes,”_ but he’s not so daring as to take his chances and let a stranger know where his heart lies.

Though, the longer they remain wrapped up together, the more Kyungsoo longs to continue. There’s something about the heat of Baekhyun’s skin, the _thump_ of his heart, that makes him as intoxicating as the scent of his cologne.

All too soon, they’re ordered away from one another. Kyungsoo’s beckoned up for a make-up and hair retouch, and Baekhyun’s let go for the day. Someone tosses him a bag, and then, he’s disappearing into one of the dressing rooms. Kyungsoo lets out a breath and focuses his attention back on the shoot at hand.

Half-way through his second scene, he looks around and catches Baekhyun’s eye. The singer’s talking to Junmyeon, but his gaze roves over Kyungsoo, effectively distracted.

Again, Kyungsoo feels naked under Baekhyun’s gaze, and he’s yet to decide if it’s a pleasant feeling or an off-putting one. With this in mind, he looks back at the camera and wills Baekhyun from his mind.

He can’t help but feel disappointed when, once he’s finally let off the set, he can’t find Baekhyun in the throng of people. He’d actually hoped to talk to the singer—after all, they _are_ both working on the same project, so they certainly have some common ground—and find a reason to warm up to him.

Baekhyun was simply… inviting. Intimidating, but in the very same sense, alluring. Again, Kyungsoo thinks of a fire. Beautiful, warm, dangerous. That’s what he gets from Baekhyun.

Perhaps, that’s why he’s not so surprised when Junmyeon presses a slip of paper into Kyungsoo’s hand. In scratchy, unkempt handwriting, Kyungsoo can just barely make out a ‘BAEKHYUN XX-XXX XXXX.’

He slides the scrap into his pocket, pulling his cap down to hide his face, and follows Junmyeon out to the car. Thankfully, Junmyeon doesn’t ask many questions on their ride back to Kyungsoo’s—which is really just all well and good, because Kyungsoo’s still not quite sure _how_ he feels about the photoshoot, and he doesn’t know how to explain that. So, once he’s delivered at his flat, Kyungsoo is blessedly free for the rest of the night.

It’s almost a compulsion that, the first thing he does when he gets into his living room, is reach for his laptop and type in Baekhyun’s name.

He’s twenty-nine (three years older than Kyungsoo), and works under an independent label as a singer-songwriter specializing in Jazz and R&B. From what Kyungsoo can tell, Baekhyun straddles the line of fame and obscurity. If you walk in the right circles, it’d be a crime not to know him—but his music also isn’t aimed to break into the general market. It’s just… his own, simply said.

Which of course means Kyungsoo should take the time and listen to a song or two.

He waits for his speaker system to connect, then, leans his head back, eyes slipping shut as Baekhyun’s voice fills the room.

It’s no wonder that voice follows him into his dreams. Where Baekhyun looks all too real. _Feels_ all too real.

He wakes up with a thumping heart.

A rabbit to the wolf.

***

“What’s this?” Sehun asks, sprawled across Kyungsoo’s couch. Jongin perks up. He’s holding Kyungsoo’s discarded sweatshirt in hand, a scrap of paper held precariously between his thumb and forefinger. _Ah_ , Baekhyun’s number. Kyungsoo’d almost forgotten he had it. He opens his mouth to explain, but Sehun’s really not one to exercise patience, and he’s already unfolding the scrap and peering at the messy scrawl written atop it.

Jongin sets his beer down and peers over Sehun’s arm, he’s the first to gasp. “Hyun-ah gave you his number?” he says, plucking the paper out of Sehun’s hand. “Sehun’s practically been gagging for his dick since last year, and you’ve got his number?!”

This is news.

“I’m sorry, what?” Kyungsoo mumbles, walking around the couch to sit down next to them, snatching the paper back from Jongin’s hand.

Sehun rolls his eyes, “Please tell me you at least texted him?”

At Kyungsoo’s blank stare, Sehun screeches, reaching forward to grab Kyungsoo’s phone off the table. He unlocks it, batting away Kyungsoo’s hands, and navigates to the ‘Add A New Contact’ screen. Then, he snaps his fingers, pointing at the furled paper in Kyungsoo’s hand.

“Hell no,” Kyungsoo mutters, but he’s too late. Jongin snatches the paper from his hand and reads the number aloud for Sehun to enter. He names the contact with Baekhyun’s initials, then instantly opens up the messenger app, shooting off a quick, “hey.”

Kyungsoo’s inclined to kill him, but then his phone _dings_ and all of their gazes fall down to the glowing screen.

> **bbh:** long time no see?
> 
> **bbh:** wdyw?

“How long has it been since he gave you his number,” Sehun asks, “‘cause that’s low-key passive aggressive to me.”

Jongin cocks his head, “I don’t think so.”

Kyungsoo really hates the ambiguity of texts, but whatever. He’s not going to call Baekhyun when these two are hanging out with him—especially since they’ve all had a little bit to drink. “I don’t know. We had the photoshoot like two weeks ago? I forgot he gave me it,” he says. Not that he’s forgotten Baekhyun—for whatever reason, for better or for worse, Baekhyun _dominates_ his dreams, and permeates all throughout his waking moments—he’s just been busy.

Sehun gasps. “You left him hanging for two weeks?”

“We barely talked, Sehun.”

“Normally, when someone leaves their number with someone, it’s an invitation to get to know them.”

Jongin nods, murmuring, “or to arrange a booty call,” under his breath. Sehun points at him in acknowledgment, nodding his agreement.

“Exactly,” he says. “ _Hyung_ , you could have been-”

“That’s enough,” Kyungsoo warns, taking his phone back before Sehun can finish his train wreck of a sentence. His fingers hover over the keyboard and he finally settles on saying he’s finally got time in his schedule to text, and to forgive him for responding so late.

Baekhyun’s response comes a moment later.

> **bbh:** too busy for me?
> 
> **bbh:** well,,, busy boy
> 
> **bbh:** if u finally have time off u should come to dinner,, have a drink
> 
> **bbh:** im curious about u

Sehun claps his hand over his mouth, eyes wide. “He’s so forward,” he sighs, dreamily.

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. “That’s hardly what I’d call forward,” he says. “He’s just being friendly,” he continues, shooting off a text that he’s free tomorrow night, if Baekhyun didn’t mind the short notice.

“I would never invite some rando from a photoshoot out for drinks, especially if they took two weeks to follow up with my flirt,” Sehun murmurs.

“And does that happen often?”

“No, people jump on the opportunity to get _my_ number. I never get left hanging,” Sehun says, grinning.

Jongin laughs, drawing the other dancer back against his chest. “What’ll you do after drinks, _hyung_?”

“Go home,” Kyungsoo says, shrugging his shoulders. “He’s probably not gay.”

“I have it on good authority that he _is_. Or, at least, he’s equal-opportunity if Chanyeol’s to be believed,” Sehun supposes, leaning against Jongin, drawing circles on his thigh.

Kyungsoo cocks his head, “Chanyeol knows him?”

“If we both know him, surely Chanyeol must, right? We _are_ all in the same group,” Jongin says. “Baekhyun participated in the songwriting camp for one of our albums. We’ve worked together.”

“Is this where Sehunnie got his crush from?” Kyungsoo teases, remembering Jongin’s initial comment about Sehun _gagging_ for Baekhyun.

“Totally,” Both of them say in unison. “He’s _captivating,_ isn’t he?”

Kyungsoo nods. “Intimidating,” he says.

Jongin nods, “But he’s very nice when he’s not in his stage persona. Sort of puppy-like, if you asked me.”

“He’s got just as much duality as Nini,” Sehun agrees. “And it’s _hot_ ,” he continues, tilting his head up to mouth at Jongin’s jaw. Kyungsoo rolls his eyes again—at this rate, they’ll get stuck like that—and looks back down at his phone. Baekhyun’s sent him an address.

He sighs, locking his phone. “If you two aren’t planning on sleeping here, call your manager and head back to your dorms,” he says. They stand, picking up their things. Kyungsoo grabs their beer bottles, tosses them into the bin, and shoos them out of the door as soon as they say their manager’s pulled up some twenty minutes later.

It leaves him in the quiet of his own apartment, his nerves rising up, and up, and up as he realizes what he’s gotten himself into.

He’s got a date. An ambiguous one at that. Sehun and Jongin makes Baekhyun sound like something of a player, someone who puts out early, rather than later. It’s not really Kyungsoo’s style, so he’s not sure if the dinner’s going to go well. But, then again, Sehun and Jongin could always be wrong. Hell, it was even _likely_ that they were.

He sighs, and goes about his nighttime routine, determined not to think about his date until it cannot be ignored.

***

He loses his nerve when he’s standing right at Baekhyun’s doorstep. It’s a nice neighborhood—gated, quiet, undisturbed—and really, probably even more expensive than the flat Kyungsoo owns in the middle of the city. Which is a blessing and a curse, because Baekhyun’s already gotten the notification that Kyungsoo’s in the area (he’d had to text to ask for the gate code), so that means Kyungsoo _can’t_ leave without looking like a massive wuss.

Thankfully (or not), Baekhyun’s door swings open just before Kyungsoo can turn around and go back the way he’d come. And judging by the smirk on his lips and the teasing glint in his eyes, Baekhyun _knows_ Kyungsoo had nearly left, and he revels in it.

He seems to revel in anything that puts Kyungsoo out of his element, which really doesn’t bode well since this is only their second time meeting.

“Hello, stranger,” he purrs, stepping aside to let Kyungsoo into his home. It’s a beautiful, modern design that uses much more charcoal grey and ebony black than Kyungsoo typically sees in homes like this. It’s a nice change from the standard white marble and tile. But, it’s also heavy, almost unsettling in quality. He’s not quite sure if he’d ever consider a place like this home. It’s just too empty… too standoffish. “Do you like my home?” Baekhyun continues, obviously noticing how Kyungsoo’s gaze roves over the house.

“It’s very nice,” he says politely, toeing off his shoes and holding out the bottle of wine he’d cared to bring. He really doesn’t know _what_ this is. If this is Baekhyun just wanting to get to know him as a friend, as a coworker, or if it’s something more—but he figured a bottle of wine was a plenty fine gift for any occasion.

Baekhyun takes it, glancing at the label, then lets his arm fall to his side. He shuts the door behind Kyungsoo, then takes the care to usher him inside the house, up to the dinner table, sitting him down.

It smells great. “Did you cook?” He asks. He’d never of pegged Baekhyun as the cooking type.

He’s right, too, because Baekhyun’s soon explaining how he’d called a friend of his, Yixing, to come cook before Kyungsoo arrived.

“You’ll have to give him my thanks,” Kyungsoo says, grinning at the thought of Baekhyun having to call someone to come cook in order to present something edible.

“You’ve not even tried it, yet. It could taste like shit.”

It could, but it doesn’t. It’s a heavenly recipe. The meat’s seasoned just perfectly, and the compliments add what the body of the dish lacks. It’s remarkably well made and, as someone who loves to cook, Kyungsoo can certainly appreciate it.

Good food really is the way to his heart.

“So,” Baekhyun says, after they’ve both eaten and are now simply sipping their wine. “I want to be clear about my intentions,” and he stands up, walking to Kyungsoo’s side of the table and leaning up against it. “I’m _interested,”_ he says.

“You hardly know me,” Kyungsoo says measuredly.

“We’ve chat all dinner, now haven’t we?”

“Small talk is hardly enough to figure someone out, don’t you think?” Kyungsoo answers in kind. He glances up at Baekhyun’s face, silently delighted by the way Baekhyun’s eyebrows knit together. “And who says I’m interested?”

“I said _I_ was interested. Just to keep things nice and clear. I never said you had to be,” Baekhyun argues, leaning back on one of his hands (careful not to put his hand on any tableware). He’s so languid, so lazy like this, sated by good food and wine. “But, I don’t know… you sure _look_ interested to me,” he murmurs, tipping his glass Kyungsoo’s way before gulping down the last sip.

Kyungsoo sits back, curious as to why he’d think that. _He_ doesn’t think he’s given any cues, but…

“The way you get all nervous around me. The way you get hyper-aware of yourself, of your body language. You’re an actor, Do Kyungsoo, but you’re not very good at acting around _me_ ,” he says, voice like a purr. “Besides, I’ve never met someone who _isn’t_ interested in me,” he flaunts arrogantly.

From anyone else, that sort of comment would make Kyungsoo sneer. From Baekhyun… hebelieves it. “Arrogant,” he teases.

Baekhyun hums, “Maybe,” he agrees. And then, he’s reaching out, gripping Kyungsoo’s jaw gently in hand, tilting his head up so that their gazes can lock together unhindered. “So, let’s cut to the chase,” he purrs, gaze heady and thick.

“I don’t do one night stands,” Kyungsoo says instead. “And I don’t put out on the first date either,” he adds, upon seeing Baekhyun ready a rebuke.

Baekhyun snorts, rolling his eyes, but his expression isn’t angry nor off-putting. It’s still loose, relaxed, inviting. “All right, then. Do you at least _kiss_ on the first date?” He asks. When Kyungsoo nods, a little belatedly, he straddles Kyungsoo’s lap comfortably.

Kyungsoo’s hands fly to his hips to support him, one eyebrow arched up questioningly.

“Still okay?” Baekhyun asks, leaning forward until his lips are just shy of Kyungsoo’s.

He hums his affirmation and Baekhyun wastes no time tilting his head just so and presses his lips to Kyungsoo’s. It’s an innocent kiss at first, despite their position, but Baekhyun deepens it, dominates it, _owns_ it.

Kyungsoo gently pushes him back after a minute or two of it. His cheeks are blushed; his lips plumped; his eyes blown wide. “That’s enough,” he says, patting Baekhyun’s thigh, signaling for him to stand up.

“Are you sure?” Baekhyun asks, laughing as he removes himself from Kyungsoo’s lap, leaving a stray caress behind him, on Kyungsoo’s thigh.

He’s sure, though he _does_ almost regret saying he doesn’t put out on the first date. He stands up a moment later, sipping down the last of his wine before he sets it down on the table. “Dinner was lovely, but I have a schedule to be ready for in,” he checks his watch, “like seven hours, and I really need to sleep.”

“I’m familiar with the notorious schedule,” Baekhyun commiserates. “We should have dinner another time,” and then, stepping up close to him again, he taps Kyungsoo’s chest. “Don’t be a stranger now. Text me sometimes. Get to know me and I’ll get to know _you_ ,” he teases. He steals another kiss, then, steps back and leads Kyungsoo to the door.

“Remember—don’t be a stranger!” He calls out as Kyungsoo walks down the drive to the entrance gate.

Kyungsoo turns around, walking backwards for a mere few moments, “I won’t be!” He says, nearly tripping on the curb before he turns back around. He can hear Baekhyun cackling behind him, but it’s a good laugh, one Kyungsoo would like to hear again.

_Now, that wasn’t all too bad_ , he thinks, sitting down in his car and replaying the night. In fact, he can’t wait to do it again. There’s just something about Baekhyun that makes him want to come back no matter what.

***

His dream that night is… an experience.

The setting is not inherently terrifying.

It is only that he stands on an endless gravel shore, with black ocean waves lapping at his feet. It’s a place he has never seen, a place he has never imagined, and yet… he knows it. And that unsettles him, making the hair on the back of his neck rise up and his knees quiver faintly. It feels _real_ to him, even in this dream-state. So real that, for a moment Kyungsoo fears it _is_ real and has to press his fingers to his palm just to confirm he’s still dreaming.

It’s an old trick he’s known since he tried lucid dreaming a few years ago, and it serves him well now. His fingers pass through his palm, confirming for him what he already suspected. But, before he can dwell on this, or allow himself to explore his new environment hands are wrapping themselves around his waist and a chin is perching itself upon his shoulder. “Do you like it here?” the voice asks, it’s hoarse, as if the speaker had been smoking or even… screaming prior to joining Kyungsoo at the beach. It’s Baekhyun, he eventually realizes.

“Where is here?” He asks.

Baekhyun’s quiet for a long time. Kyungsoo cannot even feel his heartbeat, nor hear the breaths he’s taking.

Just before Kyungsoo thinks Baekhyun’s _gone_ , that his dream has willed the singer out of it, Baekhyun answers him. “It’s the end of the world,” he says. Silence succeeds his words. Strangely enough, they feel _genuine._ Like this is indeed the end of the world. An empty shore and a black ocean hiding innumerable secrets.

Then, Baekhyun takes his hand, and leads him away from the shoreline. The wind gets hotter and hotter the farther they walk, until the ground is made of obsidian glass and molten rock. Baekhyun walks along their path undeterred, completely at ease in their surroundings.

But Kyungsoo, Kyungsoo chokes on the dense fog, winces at the hot rock beneath his feet. It’s not a kind realm, not even when Baekhyun tugs him into a wicked obsidian spire and the temperature drops once more.

“Come sit,” Baekhyun beckons, and pulls Kyungsoo onto a Throne.

***

In the following weeks, Kyungsoo goes from a relatively comfortable standard of health to near _constant_ fatigue, interspersed ever so often with headaches that only seem to abate when he’s able to sleep for a solid block of time. It’s wearing on his schedule just as much as it’s wearing on _him_ personally, and even Junmyeon notices the change in behavior.

It’s becoming as much of a distressor as it is a general nuisance, with Kyungsoo’s anxiety peaking every time he feels that familiar throbbing behind his eyes. And the dreams he keeps having only get more and more vivid. He almost feels like he’s never really asleep, for when he wakes up after one of those dreams, he certainly doesn’t feel well-rested. Sometimes, he can even feel the phantom touches left on his dream-self when he wakes up—though that he believes _is_ his imagination.

It comes up the next time he visits Baekhyun’s home. This time, he arrives early. Baekhyun tells him the gate code as well as the door code, and Kyungsoo lets himself in. Baekhyun, who is still at a recording session, says he’ll be there soon enough, but Kyungsoo was free to have a look around.

And a look around he has. Baekhyun’s home, at first glance is minimalist, chic, modern. It’s the type of home that would make Kyungsoo feel empty returning to, and yet, weirdly enough, it works for Baekhyun. Still, now that he’s exploring it with a closer eye, he catches the more minute details.

The crystals that sit on the window-sills, catching the evening light and scattering it inside their shadow. The incense that’s set up in various corners of the house, some obviously more used than others. The instruments that decorate the odd wall, table, or bookshelf—left strewn about, diverse in shape and sound, but all looking well cared for.

There are a few odd journals and books lying around in languages Kyungsoo can’t even recognize. He has half a mind to ask Baekhyun about them when he returns home, but eventually, brushes it off. He’s not really _that_ interested. At least, not now. If Baekhyun wants to share his interests with Kyungsoo later, then by all means, Kyungsoo would explore them. But for now, he’s content.

Instead, he just gets started making dinner now that he’s finished touring Baekhyun’s house (all apart from the upstairs, where he knows the master bedroom must be). Which is… an experience. Because Baekhyun has plenty of regular old spices and ingredients, but also just as many oddball vials and jars.

Again, he brushes them off and just focuses on cooking something familiar, like what his mother might cook.

And when Baekhyun walks through the door, he practically moans with delight at the scent of Kyungsoo’s cooking wafting through the house.

“You didn’t have to cook,” he says with a smile, dunking his laptop case and book-bag onto the table. “But I’m glad you did.” He pats his tummy, “I’ve been starving.”

There’s that duality Sehun had talked about. One day he’s all sultry, predatory. Other days he’s like this, gentle, pliable, delighted.

“Figured you’d like something nice after a day at the studio. Chanyeol’s been cooking me meals and dropping them off ever since my schedule got heavier, and I know it helps me unwind,” he says.

Baekhyun nods, “It really is the best thing to have a home-cooked meal waiting for you. Yixing sometimes comes over and cooks for me, but he’s been in China for the past month.”

Kyungsoo hums, “He’s a good friend of yours?”

“My best,” Baekhyun says, sitting down on the barstool opposite the counter and stove. He peers over at what Kyungsoo’s cooking and smack his lips appreciatively. “You didn’t have any trouble finding ingredients now, right?”

“No, though you’ve got some interesting stuff in there.”

“It’s for when I need to make a cult offering,” Baekhyun jokes, rolling his eyes. “It’s good to have a good array of things, don’t you think?”

“Sure,” Kyungsoo agrees easily enough. At that moment, his headache returns and he must grimace because Baekhyun’s eyebrows are furrowing concernedly.

“Something wrong?”

Kyungsoo shakes his head, waving Baekhyun off. “Just another headache,” he says, “it’ll go away once I get some sleep.”

“Have you been having them often?” Baekhyun asks again.

Kyungsoo shrugs, “More often now than I used to. But I’ve been having strange dreams, too, so I really don’t know what it is. I’m sure it’ll breeze over once my schedule loosens up.”

“I hope so,” Baekhyun murmurs. “In the meantime, perhaps a change of scenery will help. You can always stay the night, you know. It might help,” he suggests.

“Maybe, but I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“If I invite you to stay, you’re not imposing,” Baekhyun corrects him, dutifully tasting the sauce that Kyungsoo offers him on his stirring spoon. “That’s good,” he says, licking his lips. Then, returning to the conversation at hand, “Really, stay the night tonight. I’ve got some good tricks to replenish your emotional state of being,” he says.

“Emotional state of being,” Kyungsoo intones, raising a brow. Baekhyun laughs, shrugging him off with a defensive shout of ’don’t question the process!’

And later, Baekhyun makes good on his promise, lighting an incense burner and filling the room with a pleasant scent that immediately puts Kyungsoo at ease. And then, he runs a bath for Kyungsoo, spicing the water with a scented oil and a few other herbs. Pushing a towel as soft as a cloud into Kyungsoo’s arms, he directs Kyungsoo to go bathe in the hot bath. Says it’ll help him relax, help release the tension his headache’s causing.

Indeed, it helps. Not immediately, but of course, it begins to work. Kyungsoo can _feel_ his limbs turning into lead, sinking into the water with a pleased sigh.

He stays there for at least an hour until he gets out, towels himself dry and grabs the boxers and shirt Baekhyun had left for him. The shirt’s huge on his shoulders, but the boxers fit snugly enough. _Nice_.

And then, he’s walking out into the bedroom. Baekhyun’s sat on the bed, a guitar rested on the sheets in front of him and a notebook in his lap. Music notes decorate the page, as do random scribbles in that same language Kyungsoo had noticed earlier. But, Baekhyun snaps it shut before Kyungsoo can ask.

“Nice bath?”

“Yeah, it helped a lot, I think,” Kyungsoo says, crawling onto the bed, still not quite sure where Baekhyun’s boundaries lie. “Thank you,” he says honestly.

“I’m good at serving people,” Baekhyun says with a purr. “At worshipping them,” he says a breath later, voice low, sensual, seductive. “You know they say sex helps relieve stress. Perhaps that’s why you’ve been having such bad headaches?”

“Perhaps,” Kyungsoo agrees, watching Baekhyun with an arched brow as he crawls up closer to Kyungsoo, a hand creeping up his thigh.

“And we’ve had plenty of dates by now,” Baekhyun continues, “so why don’t we have a little… fun?” His hand is as hot as fire, searing heat up his thigh.

Kyungsoo’s heart stutters, and then, he’s nodding, allowing Baekhyun to smooth his hands up Kyungsoo’s sides, pulling up his borrowed shirt with them. Leaving Kyungsoo bare apart from his boxers.

Baekhyun’s lips attach themselves to Kyungsoo’s throat, his hips rolling down against Kyungsoo’s. They moan in tandem.

It’s not until Kyungsoo gets a look over Baekhyun’s shoulder that he sees the mirror. It displays all of Baekhyun’s lean muscle, the supple flesh of his ass, his hips, and the deep red tattoos that decorate his back, hips, and thighs. Kyungsoo doesn’t have his glasses on—can’t see exactly what the image is—so he asks instead.

Baekhyun mouths at his throat, slow, lazy. “It’s the Musician,” Baekhyun says, “with his crown, his instruments, all his symbols, all his legions.” He doesn’t go into detail, doesn’t seem to need to, returning to Kyungsoo’s body with great care, his fingers wet with lube, circling Kyungsoo’s entrance gently before sliding his finger home.

Kyungsoo opens up beautifully beneath him, soft sighs continuously panting from his lips.

“You’re beautiful,” Baekhyun murmurs after replacing his fingers with his cock, his arms shaking with the effort of holding himself back and allowing Kyungsoo to adjust.

_“Please_ ,” Kyungsoo once he’s adjusted, his heart thudding in his chest. And Baekhyun delivers.

***

In the morning, Kyungsoo actually takes a look at Baekhyun’s sprawling back tattoo. Traces the pretty symbols and the beautiful figure that stands upright along his spine with their left hand raised. It’s a man at the center of the tattoo, naked, bejeweled, with a crown upon his head. He is framed with trumpets, cymbals, and other instruments, all of it tied together with the roots of a tree, with a serpent.

Inscribed at the base of Baekhyun’s neck, just beneath his collar is something like a rune:

Below that, there is a line of text in that same language Kyungsoo had seen in the notebooks. He rubs his thumb over it momentarily, entranced, and then, gets out of bed. He’s got a schedule to go to.

***

His fatigue abates the longer he stays around Baekhyun, who feels like an energizer more than anything else. But, once he leaves him, he feels like a pit has opened in his heart and the headaches return at full force.

“You don’t seem all to present,” Jieun says after the cameras cut and they take a break. They’re at an interview—again, promotions for their coming movie—but Kyungsoo, admittedly, _isn’t_ all that present. The pounding behind his eyes had persisted since the night before and _now_ , all he wants is to sleep for a million years if only to avoid the pain.

“I’m not. Headaches,” he says, by way of explanation. He presses his fingers to his temples, massaging the pressure point in small circles.

Jieun frowns, “Still?”

“They went away for a while, but now I can’t seem to get rid of them,” he complains. “It’s hellish. I just want to lie in a dark room and sleep all day.”

“Sounds awful,” Jieun agrees. “Maybe you’re possessed or something?”

Kyungsoo laughs just as she does. “Sure,” he says sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

“Well, you never know! In all those paranormal movies doesn’t the main character always start to lose energy, or get freaky dreams, or get unexplainable bruises?” She says, “that could be you!”

And Kyungsoo laughs again, but for whatever reason, it _does_ hit a little too close to home. Feels a little _too_ real. And then, he remembers Baekhyun’s tattoo. “Actually,” he mutters, voice low…

Jieun doesn’t seem to hear him, walking away to go chat with someone else. And so, Kyungsoo pulls his phone out of his hand and thinks back to the tattoo, to the rune, and on a whim, he looks up demons associated with music.

Three come up, and he takes the time to look up each one and its symbols.

He gets a hit on the third demon. Paimon. King of Hell, most devoted to Lucifer. He who is accompanied by trumpets and cymbals, who is said to sit at the base of the tree of death, where all manner of serpents lie.

Paimon, who is associated also with creative and scientific pursuit. Who is most beautiful of the demons. Paimon. King of the Legions. The Musician, the Scientist.

He looks up demonic possession next, finds a website that lists the four stages. He’s at the oppressive stage, where he’s fatigued, plagued by nightmares, persistently _haunted_ by Baekhyun’s presence.

But, whether its Baekhyun or simply something that he summoned, Kyungsoo doesn’t know.

At that time, they’re called back to the interview at hand, and Kyungsoo has to shelve his concerns for later, but, the more he thinks about it, the more he genuinely believes he’s right.

***

Kyungsoo unlocks the door to Baekhyun’s home with shaking hands. He’s _tired,_ he’s _stressed_ , and he feels like he’s just put everything together. From the sudden weight that had settled on his shoulders since he first met Baekhyun to the dreams that followed. It’s putting together the tattoos on his back, the decorations in his home, the language in his notebooks.

It’s silent inside, all of the lights turned off. Something rests on the table, shattered into a million pieces. At a glance, it looks like a bottle of wine—but the liquid that drips onto the floor is a touch too thick, a color just a smidgen too _black_.

He toes his shoes off just inside the door, then sets his bag down on the table. He’ll deal with the broken glass later, right now he’s almost _compelled_ upstairs, into Baekhyun’s dark, silky bedroom.

He smooths his hair down in the mirror in the hallway. Takes a bare moment to look at himself, at the stoic set of his jaw, the heavy downturn of his brow. His stress is palpable on his face, and yet, he knows that, the second he enters the master bedroom, that stress melts away.

Baekhyun kneels on the floor in front of his bed, eyes half-lidded, challenging, hands resting on top his thighs. He leans his head back, baring his throat.

Somehow, the golden collar and chain ‘round his neck looks fitting, like it has _always_ belonged right there, tight against his windpipe. Perhaps, it’s simply Kyungsoo’s need to _own_ him, to consume him just as he’d consumed Kyungsoo. But, in the back of his mind, he knows its something else.

He wonders, belatedly, if the chains are gold in Hell—or if Baekhyun’s more used to iron.

“How long?” He asks, voice low. He steps into the room, all the way up to where Baekhyun kneels. Though naked, he’s unashamed, he’s in control. There’s always been something about him that _thrived_ like this—exposed. He wears his skin, his sexuality like armor.

“How long what?” Baekhyun asks coyly, nuzzling into Kyungsoo’s hand. His breath washes hotly over Kyungsoo’s palm, his lips caressing Kyungsoo’s flesh. He bites teasingly at Kyungsoo’s Mount of Venus, leaving a small pink blush behind.

Kyungsoo shakes his head, “How long have you been _feeding_ off of me? What even are you?”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes, then, his neck, his shoulders; with each movement, Kyungsoo sees raw power, raw tension ripple through his muscles. “Does it really matter _what_ I am?” Baekhyun asks, still dancing around any real answers.

“Not when you’re taking advantage of me,” Kyungsoo murmurs. “The dreams, that’s your doing. The fatigue. The emptiness I feel whenever you’re not around. It’s not normal.”

“Are you sure you’re not just infatuated with me? People can _miss_ one another, Soo, without it having some supernatural reason.”

“Stop playing dumb,” Kyungsoo says. He’s not harsh, but he’s firm. He watches Baekhyun shift under his gaze, but it’s not from any sort of embarrassment, any type of submission. When Baekhyun looks up at him, there’s hellfire in his eyes.

“What do you think I am?” He murmurs instead. “If you guess right, I’ll be yours. For eternity,” he says. And though vague, Kyungsoo _knows_ he’s serious. Knows that whatever commitment Baekhyun’s just promised is worth his weight in gold—and more.

His first guess would be that Baekhyun were a witch, if only for the crystals and herbs he keeps in his home. But, it doesn’t _feel_ right. It doesn’t explain that almost _royal_ authority Baekhyun gives off. It doesn’t satisfy Baekhyun’s need for control, his need to lead. It doesn’t suit his creativity, his boundless freedom.

He caresses Baekhyun’s jaw, tilts his head up higher, to the point where it’d be uncomfortable.

The gold glints around his throat.

His skin is hot to the touch.

But it’s his eyes that give him away. It’s his eyes and the arrogant cant of his lips.

“You’re a King,” Kyungsoo murmurs, so sure that he would bet his life on it. And his speaking it aloud only confirms his suspicions. It _sounds_ right. It _feels_ right. “King Paimon.”

Baekhyun’s gaze glitters. He doesn’t appear nonplussed. Rather, his expression is almost eager. Beneath all the posturing, Kyungsoo sees fondness. Sees submission.

Perhaps, Baekhyun wants to belong to him just as Kyungsoo already belongs to Baekhyun.

He beckons Kyungsoo down for a kiss with a tilt of his head, and, falling to his knees, Kyungsoo’s lips crash against his. They’re not kind, always, they are consuming one another. Possessing one another.

Baekhyun bites his lip, just sharply enough to draw blood. It’s amidst their next kiss that Kyungsoo feels his blood _ignite_ , his body thrum to life, his mind, his senses sharpening impossibly. And he _feels_ Baekhyun, intimately, like Baekhyun were another soul in his body.

“You guessed right,” Baekhyun mumbles against his lips.

Kyungsoo grins, hand sliding up to hold the back of Baekhyun’s neck, commanding, controlling. And Baekhyun _melts_ against him.

The first time they’d ever met, it had been Baekhyun who was the fire, and Kyungsoo who was the chalice left to melt at its side. Now, the roles are reversed. Kyungsoo is the unstoppable force, and Baekhyun yields to him easily, needily.

Kyungsoo drags them up onto their feet, pushing Baekhyun onto the bed. “I know,” he says, responding to Baekhyun’s admission. “I know _you_ ,” he says, “perhaps better than _you_ know _me_.”

“Perhaps,” Baekhyun agrees, biting his lip as Kyungsoo attaches his mouth to one of his nipples, biting and nipping at the sensitive flesh. “ _More_ ,” he murmurs, a beat later, when Kyungsoo’s yet to move on from laving the one tit with his tongue.

His impatience wins out over his need to behave, and he worms his hands out from under his back and wrests them in Kyungsoo’s hair, forcing him to kiss down his abs, to mouth at his cock.

Kyungsoo drapes his thighs over his shoulders, then, pulling at Baekhyun’s cheeks, presses the flat of his tongue over Baekhyun’s hole. The keen Baekhyun lets out is mind-numbing, his thighs squeezing around Kyungsoo’s head as he grinds back onto Kyungsoo’s tongue.

Kyungsoo’s cock throbs in his pants, painfully untouched. He’s desperate. Desperate to unravel Baekhyun, desperate to _be_ unraveled.

Baekhyun gently kicks him away after a few minutes, his face flushed but his eyes hungry. He beckons Kyungsoo up, kisses him ruthlessly, passion dripping from his lips.

And then, he reverses their positions and settles atop Kyungsoo’s hips, rolling his ass back with a moan. Kyungsoo’s eyes flutter closed, his nerves frying. Baekhyun takes the time to shimmy him out of his pants, Kyungsoo lifting his hips to help him, and then, sinks down onto Kyungsoo in one fluid movement that startles moans from both of them.

Baekhyun sighs, rocking back onto Kyungsoo ever so slightly, allowing his body to acclimate to the feeling of a cock in his ass. And then, he places his hands on Kyungsoo’s chest, rising up and sinking back down properly, rolling his hips as he does so.

Kyungsoo can’t find his words, so he settles for smoothing his hands up Baekhyun’s thighs almost reverently. Lets them trail up around his chest, pinching and scratching.

Then, he wraps the chain attached to Baekhyun’s collar around his hand and tugs Baekhyun down close enough to kiss him, thrusting up at the same time.

Baekhyun gasps against his lips, his eyes squeezing shut.

Kyungsoo repeats the motion, finding a rhythm that works for the both of them.

Baekhyun comes minutes later, his breath whooshing from his chest with one, whiny moan. His insides flutter around Kyungsoo, drawing him over the edge and milking him for all he’s worth.

Baekhyun crashes down against his chest. He’s sweaty and gross, but Kyungsoo is too. Both of them debauched in the best of ways. “I’m yours,” Baekhyun murmurs into his chest, “for eternity.”

Call it a pact.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! You can find me on my [personal twitter](https://twitter.com/syzygybbh) OR [writing twitter!](https://twitter.com/sophluorescent)


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